


Making The Best Of It

by BubblyCeci



Series: Never To Be Finished (Probably) [2]
Category: Glee, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Angst, Awesome Jackson, Fluff, Implied Past Infidelity, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's A Good Dad, pack bonds, pack is family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyCeci/pseuds/BubblyCeci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Stilinski's worried. His only son is involved in the more dangerous side of the world, and he just wants what's best for his kid. It's not his fault he doesn't understand what pack means. He sends Stiles to Lima, Ohio, where he thinks he'll be safe from all the supernatural bullshit. It's Lima, after all. Nothing happens there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making The Best Of It

            Stiles stiffened, his magic thrumming a hummingbird’s tattoo underneath his skin. _No_. His heart rate slowed to a stop before skyrocketing. _No_. His big honey eyes widened in disbelief, and his thin, crimson bitten lips hung partially open in an expression of shock. _God, no, fuck_.

            “I’m sorry, Stiles,” he father murmured, a too large too warm too unfamiliar hand settling on his shoulder. He resisted the urge to shake it off, to shake his father, to demand a reason why with a growl and roar like his instincts- learned from his pack, his real family, ingrained into his psyche via his spark- whispered for him to do. He blinked and forced his stance to loosen, ready to flee the first chance he got. “I am, son, but my mind is made up. This thing you’re involved in, this pack thing, it’s not safe, and I can’t let you get any more involved than you are now. LeRoy and his partner have already agreed to house you for the next couple of years. It’s settled.”

            He wanted to scream, roar his fury to the man and have him submit. He wanted to curl up and cry, sob and beg for a reason for his father’s harsh decision. He wanted to find his family, and he wanted to _run_ with them, run for days and days until they were somewhere safe and together and happy. He wanted Derek to wrap his arms around him and hold him and kiss him and make him forget his imminent departure with soft caresses and hard thrusts and- it wasn’t possible, he was gone with Cora in tow, and he had left without a word to him or a sign of his existence outside of their memories, had even taken his goddamn leather jacket out of its place in Stiles’ closet.

            His heart splintered, and his soul ached with the need for the comfort of pack and home and safety. He managed to nod at his dad before he fled.

 

…

 

            He gasped out a howl of sorrow, the roar of a werewolf, long and slender mole-dotted neck bared to his pack in a show of exponential trust. It choked off after a minute, turned into a sob. They curled closer to him in their nest- Scott’s chest to his back and legs framing his; Isaac tucked into their sides, nosing at the skin where Stiles’ shoulder and neck met; Allison pressed to his front, slow tears staining his fitted cotton tee; Lydia and a returned Jackson hugging the side opposite Isaac, both nuzzling various parts of his arm and face.

            They were losing a part of their family, wouldn’t be able to touch each other every day like they did now, and it showed. They were all grieving, their instincts screaming that it was _wrong_ what was happening. Their instincts were howling to fight against the force making him leave, an impossible thing considering the source and their age.

            He whimpered and buried his face in Allison’s dark hair, soaking up as much comfort as he could. He didn’t know if he could make it, the next couple of years. He would miss them all so much- miss the ‘Pack Days’ Scott had insisted upon as soon as everyone wanting to be pack submitted; miss the pack dinners everyone help cook; miss protecting and healing his pack members during and after a fight; miss Scott and Isaac wrestling over who was going to top Allison and bottom for the other; miss Allison and Lydia and himself shopping and gossiping and arguing over what ‘toys’ were best for realistic penetration; miss Jackson, softened by his time in London and his bond with the pack, joking and laughing and egging the mock-fighting on from the sidelines with him.

            Scott nuzzled the back of his neck, biting it with blunt teeth before licking it- grooming him, making him smell like pack, marking him as taken for other creatures. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured into the hot skin. His words were reassuring, rang with truth. It _would_ be okay, because his Alpha said it would be. “We’ll Skype you during the dinners, during the Pack Days, and we all have your number and email. We’ll talk to you every day, okay? And we’ll visit as often as we can. We’re your pack, Stiles. We won’t abandon you, and you won’t abandon us.”

            And that was something he had feared, the ‘what ifs’ concerning his place in the pack. He was afraid they would forget him in his absence. He was scared they would replace him, had panicked about them severing his tie to them and letting it go on their end. And-and he was scared to death that _he_ would be the one to do it instead, but his Alpha’s words soothed the worries, made them disperse into thin air. None of that would happen, because his Alpha said it wouldn’t, and his Alpha would do everything in his power to make sure.

            “We’ll help you get over Derek, too,” Allison whispered into his shirt, making him freeze. He hadn’t known they had known, but he should have. It was impossible to keep secrets about that kind of thing around werewolves and their super senses. He clenched his eyes close and let a few more tears leak out. That wound was still raw, the ex-Alpha having left not even two days ago. “He gave us a message to pass along to you, you know. He- he said-.”

            Scott cut her off with a soft hush as she choked up, clearly affected by the emotions rolling off Stiles. He nodded to Jackson a silent order, and the Beta got up and left the room, returning not even a minute later with an envelope he handed to the leaving male. He kept his words gentle, one hand carding through his dark hair and the other clasping the back of his neck. “He gave us a note, Stiles, addressed to you, and well, we kind of couldn’t resist. He did what he thought was best, Stiles, and I- just, read it, now, okay?”

            Stiles huffed out a broken chuckle at his friend’s loss of words, attention focused on the thick material in his hands. It was quality, the texture creamy as the color, and his heart warmed for a moment as it always did when Derek showed he cared. It was the same stock and envelope paper his mother had used. With trembling hands and his family curled against him, he slipped the letter out of the pack.

_Stiles,_

_I know I left without telling you, and I know that must have hurt you. For that, I am sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much, and it shouldn’t, but I am. So, so much, and for everything I put you through._

_I’m sorry for getting you involved in all the supernatural bullshit I did. I’m sorry for not protecting you better. I’m sorry you felt the need to train and learn to kill. I’m sorry for not stopping your father from getting kidnapped. I’m sorry for sleeping with another woman while I was with you, and I’m sorry for letting you catch us after, for all the heartbreak I put you through then before I made it up to you. And, most of all, I’m sorry I never told you how I felt even when you were pouring your heart out to me, never told you how much I love you._

_I do, so much. Even knowing that you probably hate me now, that you would rip my throat out with your teeth, I love you. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop._

_We’ve gone Omega, you know. Cora and I. We won’t make it far, not now that we had a hand in killing the Alpha Pack. They had too many allies, and pride is a strong beast for our kind. I think she knows it, too, and that’s okay. We couldn’t take it anymore, had to risk it. We had to leave._

_I hope you find happiness. I hope you remember me, never forget what we had, but I hope you find someone better than me to make your face light up and sweet words spill from your lips. I hope you get everything you want out of life, that it’s easy for you. I hope you never have regrets. I want you to show the world the warmth of your smile, the talent you have, but more than anything, I hope you remember than someone out there loves you- be it me or your pack or someone else._

_The jacket is in my room in the house on the old bed. I wore it one last time to renew the scent. I hope you keep it, wear it. I hope it reminds you of the good times we had, because the red hoodie of yours I took does for me._

_D_

            He choked out a cry, tears dripping down his cheeks, and struggled to his feet, the whole pack following. “Please,” he begged Scott, clinging to him. “Please, I need it, take me there, please. Please, please, _please_.”

            The teen Alpha nodded, his own eyes growing wet. He handed his keys over to Jackson, gesturing for everyone to go wait and give him and his gasping brother a second. His arms encircled the slender waist, and he nuzzled into the lean neck. “Yeah, man, yeah. We’re going to go get it for you, okay? You’re going to have the jacket, I promise. It’ll be okay, everything is going to work out, I swear, Stiles, but I need you to take a deep breath. Breathe with me, in and out, in and out.”

            The panicked breathing slowed, evened out, and the tears soaking the front of his shirt stopped. He squeezed one last time before moving away, and taking his best friend’s hand, he led him out to the waiting car.

 

…

 

            Stiles nosed at the worn leather, breathing in the calming scent of his old werewolf. It still smelt of ash and car oil and a crisp fall day, and he doubted the smell would fade completely. Derek had worn it for so long- he had gotten it the week after the fire that claimed his family- and he had never taken it off until the day he gave it to him. He had even slept in it most nights.

            Sighing shakily, he released the material and focused on the tethers tying him to his pack. They were strong, despite the distance, and the emotions rolling off of them further soothed his nerves. He could feel Scott’s exhaustion, and Isaac and Allison’s amusement at the fact. Lydia was excited over something- maybe she figured out another mathematical formula- and Jackson was a tense mixture of wariness and protective suspicion.

            Damn, was something going down? Isolating Jackson’s thread like Deaton had taught him, he sent a wave of warm curiosity down it. Seconds later, his phone beeped, indicating the arrival of a text.

            _‘Think new BB is at BHHS w/us. Not sure if teach or student yet, or what it is. Smells like seaweed ‘n salt. Any ideas?’_

            He frowned, sending a contemplating feel through to him. Glancing up at his uncle, he noticed LeRoy sending him weird looks before turning back to the road. His brow furrowed, the spark in him reacting to the glances as it would a potential threat. Taking a leap of faith, he snuck a tendril out and probed at his uncle. The man’s aura flared bright blue, and he had to resist the urge to jerk away. Oh, that was so his luck- Uncle LeRoy was a magic user as well.

            Tucking that information into the corner of his mind with a mental note to talk to him about it- maybe he would be okay with him getting into Lima’s supernatural side- he turned his attention to more important matters. What the hell was after his pack this time? Seaweed and salt scents could rest on several creatures, and not all of them were aggressive.

            _‘Any underlying scents, Jax?’_ he typed back, long fingers flying over the keys. His mind raced, leaping from creature to creature in his internal library. _‘Any scent intermingled with it at all, like if it’s male or female? If it’s sexually active?’_

            Incredulity spiked through the Jackson thread, and he let out a snort of laughter, downturned lips curling up. Sensing his amusement and the dumbfounded emotion of their blond pack member, the others sent their own twinges of cheer through their bonds. His grin grew into a full blown smile, something not even Derek’s scent or note could do.

            The ex-kanima’s reply was slow. _‘Couldn’t smell testosterone or estrogen, though I should have been able to. The scent was overpowering. No scent of cum or pheromones, either. Why did you need to know?’_

_‘Seaweed and salt is common on a couple creatures,’_ he admitted. His thoughts swirled around two, though, with the information given. Neither of them were benign, and both were difficult as fuck to kill. _‘Sounds like either a kelpie or a siren. Kelpies are water horses, and they can appear as a gorgeous woman or man to help them lure innocents to their watery death. Sirens lure people to their watery death by singing sweet songs of enthrallment. Neither have a sex, appearing instead as the one the person desires most, and neither are sexual creatures, despite the modern usage of the word siren. Don’t touch the damn thing if it is a kelpie because you will get stuck and die unless you cut off the stuck appendage. Anyway, to kill a kelpie, you have to take its bridle, rendering it docile, and then slay it- like, cut its head off with an axe or something. To kill a siren either stab it with a bronze dagger that has been dipped in the blood of one who is enthralled by the song, or have the person enthralled resist the song.’_

            Exasperation flittered down from Jackson. Stiles snickered- the jock was probably sighing back home, wondering when that became his life. _‘Thanks, Stilinski. Wish you were here. It’s going to suck with either one, but at least you can still help us with the plans. McCall’s would get us killed.’_

            His snicker became full belly chuckles, and he shook his head at his uncle’s questioning glance. “Just some drama back home- lacrosse, you know. Jax thinks Scott’s plans are awful, and in his defense, they are. They’re gonna hit me up later, have me help. Can’t leave them to die, now can I?”

            Seeing the man nod once, he turned back to his phone. _‘Made my fuckin’ day, Jax! Skype later tonight? Around six? I gotta meet Lima’s Deaton, a mechanic named Burt. Burt, dammit! Why do all these guys have normal as fuck names?’_

_‘Lol. I hope he’s more normal than Dr. Deat. And that’s perfect- we’ll be at Scott’s then, discussing the new BB. Hit his account,’_ was the immediate reply. His heart warmed, both in amusement at the jock’s texting skills- seriously, he was so _open_ now- and the fact that they were keeping him involved.

            Sending back a will do, he relaxed into the material seat of his uncle’s car and closed his eyes. He fell asleep in minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea WTF this is. I just- I wanted it so bad, and it just didn't happen. So have an unfinished self-indulgent fic.


End file.
